(Originally published May 4, 2020)
I had an epiphany Friday night. Well, actually, epiphany is probably not the right word. An epiphany springs out of the blue. This particular insight has been bubbling below the surface for years now. So not an ‘a-ha!’ moment, per se. More like a ‘yep, I knew it!’ kinda thing. And Friday night’s Real Time removed any lingering doubts. Bill Maher is, indeed, my soulmate. If there was a nearby tree to carve ‘Bill + Dave’ into the bark, I surely would risk the outrage of my environmentalist neighbors to accomplish such a feat. But, alas, like my soulmate, I live in Los Angeles (with a far less glamorous, more populated zip code). Oh, and a note to friends and family: no, I’m not gay. I am not ‘coming out of the closet.’ Do people still say that, btw? It seems dated, like the word ‘Chicano.’ Now, I know- traditionally speaking, of course- that my soulmate should be a member of the opposite sex, roughly my age. Not a 64-year old bachelor. And his bachelorhood- and persistent attacks on marriage (and religion, for that matter)- is definitely part of the attraction, much to the dismay of my blue collar parents who will never cash in on their well-deserved benefits of being grandfathers and grandmothers. They would have been really good ones, too. Thankfully for me, I have an older brother who is also childless. So blame him, dear mama.
On the latest Real Time, Bill (as my soulmate, I call him Bill), pontificated on the necessity of a healthier lifestyle- yes, you can be healthy and smoke weed- and not resort to hiding in the aforementioned closet from ubiquitous germs. And, as usual, the man is right. Lethal viruses are, sadly, here to stay, as the prescient song described rock n’ roll in the 1950’s. The best strategy, therefore, is not to try to avoid them, but to build up an immunity system strong enough to keep the bastards at bay. It’s a teaching lesson that’ll not only vanquish this virus, but cure a slew of other ailments that plague us. Hell, fatty foods and sugary drinks alone kill more people yearly than a dozen Hiroshimas. And Bill’s not a ‘Johnny-come-lately’ (okay, I know for a fact no one says that anymore). No, he’s been pushing this discourse for years, blasting politicians who ignore this Gore-style inconvenient truth.
Soulmates, though, aren’t made on a single issue. If two people find Tiger King wildly entertaining (and, c’mon, who doesn’t?), that doesn’t mean they’re meant to mate for life. No, Bill espouses utilitarianism, a philosophy I’ve always been attracted to… sorta my Alyssa Milano of ideologies. Sharing the same birth year, I’ve adored her since her days as tomboy Sam Micelli to the political activist she is now. I even had her poster on my wall, the one with- wait, where was I going with this? Ah, yes. Utilitarianism. The concept’s pretty simple: the common good trumps individual rights. What seems obvious and natural to Bill and I, however, has virulent opposition- mainly on the far right side of the political spectrum. Round up the usual suspects: Fox News. Rush. And, well, anyone who dons a red MAGA hat. Do they make them in any other color, btw? I’d love to see one in pink… For these folks, the rights of each person trumps (even as a verb it’s cringe worthy) any government mandate. Sounds logical, right? Unless it’s abortion, of course. Then these sycophants of The Grand & Exalted Poobah perform a twist that would make Chubby Checker blush. Yep, that’s two references to 1950’s rock-n-roll in this lil’ ditty.
Bill and I (hmm, really liking the way that sounds). Yeah, so Bill and I also believe that the left- er, let’s just say Democrats- are way too soft and too scattered as a political party. Sure, distancing is necessary now, but coalescing behind one candidate- 100%, all in- is de rigueur for winning general elections. So, please, stop with all the pandering to fringe causes (elective surgeries in prison? Nice, Liz), unite the party, and kick this m-f’er and his genetically mutated offspring out of office. You see, Republicans know how to play the game. They always have, at least dating back to Nixon. Despite their issues with the candidate, they stand lockstep behind their guy (and it’s always a guy), even if they have to clench their collective nostrils doing so. They organize, they show up to vote- rain, sleet or snow be damned- and do their God’s honest best to suppress the other party’s vote. And they’re really good at it, too. Bottom line, the GOP knows how to seize power and hold onto the fucker for dear life. The Dems? The circular firing squad grows rounder- like our bellies during quarantine- and incrementally more deadly every election cycle.
Speaking of firing squads and elections, Bill and I both believe the upcoming one will not end well. And that’s putting it mildly. Armed Trumpers (and they’re always armed) are a dangerous bunch, to be sure. Hell, they make Pat Buchanan’s peasants with pitchforks seem downright pastoral. So here’s what’ll happen the first Tuesday in November: Trump will lose the election- both the popular vote (the sequel) and the electoral college. Will he graciously concede office like his predecessors before him? Unless you’ve been in a coma during his reign, you know that’s not gonna happen. The words ‘gracious’ and ‘concede’ were scribbled out of his dictionary as a child. No, he will contest the results. And then contest some more, all the way up to the Supreme Court if necessary, now conveniently aligned with his political beliefs. Rest assured, he will not go gentle in the good night. He’s been working the refs for nearly five years now, claiming voting irregularities and accusing Democrats of encouraging them. Sure, there’s been little to no evidence of any such shenanigans. The only concrete intel swings in the other direction, incriminating Trump and his dealings with Russia. But when have his supporters ever gave a damn about facts? Bill’s list of Trump’s dictatorial behavior is spot-on. The one not mentioned- and the most dangerous, by far- will be his refusal to leave the White House when he loses the election. The year that has brought us an apocalyptic virus that killed more Americans than the Vietnam war and systematically destroyed our economy will undoubtedly conclude with riots in the streets. This, my friends, is the good part of 2020, when we’re reconnecting with old friends and (more or less) coming together as a country. But darker days await, and it will have little to do with COVID-19, other than a rationale for alleged voting fraud. So what is there to do in all this? Well, I know Bill will be loading up on copious amounts of marijuana. That’s certainly a viable option. For the rest of us, I recommend that you take Bluto’s advice from Animal House and start drinking heavily.
p.s. call me, Bill:)
David Agnew Penn 